


A Few Months

by Processpending



Series: What Time Brings [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23743723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: Winter is upon them and Jaskier is off to teach at the Academy while Geralt heads to Kaer Morhen with a promise to reconvene when the season ends.When Geralt surprises Jaskier he finds the months have been generous to the bard and fears Jaskier may not want to continue their travels together.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: What Time Brings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712416
Comments: 22
Kudos: 175
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	A Few Months

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the lovelies in the Witcher Chub Club discord](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+lovelies+in+the+Witcher+Chub+Club+discord).



> Check the tags. Don't like. Don't read.  
> Still feel the need to spill the haterade...at least make it creative.

“It’s a wonderful opportunity to teach a class at the Academy, you were excited when you got the invitation.” Geralt treads the familiar words, knowing Jaskier’s response before he speaks.

“And the coin will be good and you’ll be safe at Kaer Morhen.” Jaskier continues, his back to Geralt so he misses the slight nod Geralt does to the familiar words.

“ _And_ I’ll meet you as soon as the trail thaws. It’s only a few months, Jaskier.” Geralt can no longer keep the exasperation from his tone. They’ve been having the same _conversation_ , Jaskier refuses to call it an argument as he’s not going to let their last days be marred by angry words, about the impending winter. 

“A few months.” Jaskier mutters, the words seeming to distress him more than reassure which was Geralt’s intention. He doesn’t turn from where he’s rearranging his pack again but he doesn’t have to, the sharp tang of his tears reach Geralt all the same. 

“Jask,” Geralt settles his hands on the bard’s hips, frowning at the sharp knobs of bone, but then Jaskier’s turning and fixing those beautiful blue eyes on him and Geralt has never hated the words _a few months_ more.

o~O~o

Geralt knew how important Oxenfurt was to Jaskier and he tried, he really did, to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He’d rented a room at the local inn, stabling Roach and bathing before leaving his armor in the room, donning the leather jacket Yenn had given him years ago that he knew Jaskier liked. 

He caught himself fussing with his hair, using a leather thong to secure half of it as though that would chase the nervous feeling that had been plaguing him since he left Kaer Morhen. Though they were few, the months had been long, only thoughts of Jaskier safe and surrounded by people who held him in high regard got him through; that and the brutal training his brothers saw fit to put him through. 

With a final check his medallion is tucked safely away he sets out from the room. Finding Jaskier proves to be more difficult than Geralt anticipated, the campus as illogically organized as the town and he soon finds himself resigned to the idea he’s going to have to ask. 

Geralt is surprised when the young woman he approaches doesn’t shy away as most did when a Witcher neared. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Jaskier?” 

Her smile falters and Geralt is sure it's because she's getting a good look at his eyes, another sign he's a monster but her expression quickly brightens and her cheeks flush, "You mean Professor Pankratz.” She giggles and Geralt is reminded why he prefers Roach to people. 

“Mmm.” Apparently that's all she needs before she sets off, heading inside one of the buildings Geralt had passed twice, keeping up a running commentary on Jaskier.

“We were so excited he was on the schedule for the winter session. The Academy is hoping he’ll stay on, there are so many who didn’t get to take his class that wanted to. _I_ barely got in and I’ve been attending here for a year.” It was clear from her tone he should be impressed but Geralt’s mind had halted at the idea of him staying on. _A few months,_ Geralt reminds himself, Jaskier had been in tears at the thought of being parted, surely things hadn’t changed so much in just a season. 

The pair continues weaving down hallways before finally stopping before a wooden door. “This is his classroom, he should be finishing up soon but there are usually spots in the back if you wanted to sit in.”

Geralt absently thanks her, his mind still fixed on the fear that had been nagging his thoughts since they departed, Jaskier might find he enjoyed this life to the hard living he did on the Path with Geralt. 

Geralt stares at the door, Jaskier doesn’t know he’s here yet, he could just return to the inn, collect Roach and continue on his way, surely there’s a monster nearby. But there’s the smallest bit of doubt, the tiniest spark of possibility that Jaskier had instilled in him that makes him question the student’s words.

He’s no doubt the Academy would want Jaskier to stay on, but if Geralt didn’t meet Jaskier like he promised and the bard did intend to continue traveling with him...Geralt will be damned if he doesn’t see this through if only for Jaskier’s sake. 

The door opens smoothly, barely a whisper of its hinges and Geralt slips inside, wanting this rare opportunity afforded to him of watching Jaskier unguarded. 

The classroom is larger than Geralt expected, arranged like a theater, the desks are set on levels like stairs, Jaskier on the lowest level, only the back row has a couple empty seats as it seems everyone wants to be as close to the bard as possible. Geralt slips into the first empty chair at hand, the man next to him barely sparing him a glance. 

Jaskier is sitting on what Geralt guesses is supposed to be the teacher’s desk, lute in his lap as he lectures on finding the correct tone to fit the lyrics. There’s something different about him, something Geralt can’t quite place as he studies Jaskier with an intensity rivaled only by the students. His hair is slightly longer, though Geralt knows that may just be his mind playing tricks. It’s when he smiles, a grin so familiar and easy that Geralt realizes what it is, Jaskier is _happy_. 

"I think that's it for today's class!" Jaskier declares to more than one complaint. Jaskier ducks, trying and failing to hide how pleased he is at their reaction. Jaskier sets his lute beside him on the desk revealing what Geralt had been struggling to place, Jaskier had gotten chubby.

Where his stomach once caved in, protruding ribs giving his body most of its shape, there’s now a generous curve starting just below his breastbone, belly large enough that it forces his legs wide when sitting, not the lute.

Geralt can’t believe his eyes, it must be a trick, the cut of Jaskier’s doublet until he slides from the edge of the desk, tugging it down as it rides up what are undeniably thicker hips.

Students flood down to Jaskier, some pausing long enough to bid him goodbye, others dropping a cheeky comment that sets Jaskier chuckling as the braver ones pat his paunch as they pass, others stop for questions on homework while all of them block Geralt’s view.

It's a young woman that catches Geralt's eye, mainly for how she purposefully lingers at her desk, her blonde hair covering one eye, the other a blue so beautiful he’s only ever seen one set to rival it and she's focused on their owner. Jaskier.

Finally, the few lingering students depart, leaving Geralt, the blonde and Jaskier. Geralt knows he should make his presence known, that whatever transpires would be his own fault but he can’t bring himself to so much as shift. 

“Essi, what can I do for you?” Jaskier leans back against his desk, hands stretched behind him, doublet riding up to reveal the clinging chemise underneath. 

“I made these for you.” She retrieves a covered basket from her desk, her steps carefully placed as to draw the gaze to her swaying hips. Jaskier’s smile pulls to the side as he watches her approach, an eyebrow raised in question. Where most would stop before his outstretched legs she continues until she’s at his side, close as a lover’s embrace. 

“Apple cinnamon, your favorite if I remember right.” She keeps her head ducked, peering up at him with her one beautiful eye as she folds back the cloth draped over the basket, the sweet smell of pastries reaching Geralt. 

“You remember right.” Jaskier smiles, plucking a muffin from the basket and taking a bite, his already cherubic cheeks rounding as he smiles around the mouthful and something twists in Geralt. 

“Haven’t I taken good care of you this semester?” She stretches over Jaskier to set the basket on his other side before she leans back and casually brushes the crumbs from his ample stomach, the tilt of her head telling Geralt she has that one eye trained on him. 

“Thank you for the muffins, Essi, it was very kind of you.” The words are low as though Jaskier’s afraid too harsh a tone will break the spell but then he's pushing himself up from the desk, forcing her to reclaim the hand that had moved from brushing crumbs to openly rubbing his stomach and straighten herself. 

Essi’s shoulders slump the slightest bit when that’s all Jaskier says, his posture only breaking as he tosses the final bite into his mouth. Realizing the muffins aren’t having the effect she’d hoped, Essi steps back, all care with her gait forgotten as she gathers her bag from the floor by her chair before slipping out the lower side door. 

Jaskier’s eyes linger on her empty desk for a moment longer before he shakes his head, seeming to silently decide something with himself before he turns, selecting another muffin from the basket he steps to the board, free hand coming to rest on his hip in a familiar stance. 

Geralt watches Jaskier, trying to piece together the events of the past few minutes. He knew it was foolish to think Jaskier wouldn’t have admirers, he’d been present after enough performances where the braver women would seek him out, offering a bed for the night, but that was different, he’d always been _right there_. 

When Geralt can stand it no longer he rises, partially disappointed the chair doesn’t give him away and force the decision for him. He lingers at the top of the stairs, it would be so easy to slip out the door, pretend he’d never been here; but he’d always know he’d been so close and the possibility would haunt him for the rest of his days. 

In the time it takes Geralt to walk down the stairs to the floor Jaskier has finished his second muffin and found dissatisfaction with the notes written on the board, having taken up a cloth he swipes at it in long strokes.

“Jaskier.” The bard turned professor freezes mid stroke, his arm still stretched above him, before he whirls, arm dropping as he faces Geralt. This close it’s easier to mark the changes the months have brought to Jaskier, his doublet hitched up, stuck on his rounded hips, a streak of dust across his stomach from where he’d smeared the writing lower on the board. 

Blue eyes blown wide with fear stare up at Geralt, smoothing out his double chin, Jaskier’s hands nervously tug down his doublet, the acrid smell of embarrassment pouring off him. “Geralt! You’re uh...here. You’re _here_?” Jaskier tries for excited but the words come out strangled and weak.

“Hmm.” Jaskier swallows hard as Geralt’s eyes drop down to the hand insistently worrying the hem of his doublet. Jaskier’s cheeks pink, his hand falling away, twitching at his side before finally falling still. Geralt takes his time dragging his eyes back up. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Jaskier means it to sound apologetic but to Geralt it sounds like he’s trying to gauge how much Geralt knows, how much he was present for.

“You are...popular with the students here.” Geralt glances to the basket and though he doesn't think it possible Jaskier’s cheeks burn hotter. 

“Yeah the whole toss a coin to your professor thing doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Jaskier’s joke sounds hollow even to his own ears. “I didn’t expect you... _here_ I mean. We were going to meet in Novigrad in a couple weeks...but this is a wonderful surprise.” Each step Geralt takes forward Jaskier mirrors with a step back, a surprised _Oh_ escaping when his thighs brush his desk, halting his escape. 

“You do not wish to stay?” Confusion furrows Jaskier’s features but as close as Geralt is he makes no motion to actually touch Jaskier, not yet, and understanding dawns. Jaskier knows just what it cost his Witcher to make this offer to continue on their way as they had planned once winter ended, but he would go it alone if Jaskier so desired.

Jaskier faltered, too many thoughts cluttering his mouth until all he managed was, “I want you.” Jaskier had consoled himself through the long nights with versions of how reuniting with Geralt would go, in all of them he’d been as svelte as when they departed, in none of them had Geralt watched as his students pet his stomach and plied him with baked goods. 

It’s been months since Geralt felt Jaskier beneath him, back then he'd been all sharp angles and jutting hip bones, now he’s soft curves and rounded hips. The knobs that used to dig into Geralt’s hands when he’d hold Jaskier’s hips are hidden within ample handfuls, tender flesh Geralt knows will be marked with his prints when he strips his bard later. Geralt hums his pleasure as there’s more Jaskier than he can take in his hands, ducking his head he captures his bard’s lips, the taste of apples and spices lingering, growing stronger as he slips his tongue between parted lips. 

Jaskier’s hands are greedy as they pull Geralt closer, the taller man swallowing Jaskier’s moan as he works a toned thigh between his bard’s legs, his own arousal hardening at the resistance of a motion once easily accomplished now hindered by thicker thighs. Jaskier grinds into Geralt, each roll of his hips pressing his taut stomach into Geralt, forcing them apart. 

Geralt pulls away, a whine falling from Jaskier’s mouth as doubt clouds his eyes but Geralt’s hands are working at the ties lacing Jaskier’s pants, seeing this the bard is all too happy to set about freeing Geralt of his own. Jaskier has barely wrapped his hand around Geralt’s considerable length before familiar hands are sliding over his fuller ass, gripping his upper thighs before lifting him onto his desk. 

Geralt admires the sight before him, Jaskier’s belly rounding up even when he’s laying flat, the Witcher leaning over, his eyes never leaving Jaskier’s as he presses a kiss to the roundest part, enjoying the way the bard’s cheeks pink. Geralt skims Jaskier’s breeches off him, enjoying the way his belly sways at the motion, his cock finally freed bobs against his belly, already weeping. 

Ducking his head Geralt licks up Jaskier’s length, sucking the tip before it slips from his mouth with an audible pop, the grin he gives Jaskier is wolfish. Geralt takes his time, splaying his hands over the tops of Jaskier’s thighs, his fingers once disappearing over either side now dig into the plush flesh as he slides them around to cup their backs, encouraging them up.

With Geralt forcing his legs up they quickly find the usual position no longer comfortable with the pressure on Jaskier's packed belly. Forcing his legs wide, Geralt's tucks Jaskier's knees under his arms as Jaskier urges him closer. “Mmph...full.” Jaskier whines, hands rubbing his belly as he tries to soothe the ache within. He’d had a substantial breakfast before class started and was admittedly still full when Essi had gifted him the still warm muffins that were partly responsible for his growing waistline. 

The words seem to only excite Geralt more, his grip tightening on Jaskier’s hips, sheathing himself inside his bard in one smooth motion, wanting to see how much more he could fit inside his softer form. 

Jaskier arches up at being suddenly filled in a way he hasn’t felt in months, his belly made impossibly bigger, the fastenings of his doublet unable to handle the increased strain snap. The sight sends Geralt over the edge, the desk groaning under his tightening grip as he slams into Jaskier harder and faster with each thrust. Jaskier panting his name is drowned by the sharp crack of wood as the desk gives way, the sudden shift sending Jaskier’s considerable weight into Geralt, causing the Witcher to stumble back.

Geralt’s not sure if it’s his back suddenly connecting with the floor or Jaskier dropping on top of him that knocks the breath from his lungs but either way he doesn’t care as the feel of being buried to the hilt inside Jaskier, his belly warm and heavy against Geralt’s stomach tips them both over the edge. 

Geralt’s name tears from Jaskier’s throat, the bard collapsing on Geralt’s chest, limbs weak and uncooperative in wake of satiation. Jaskier nuzzles into Geralt’s chest, finding he still fits perfectly where his shoulder meets his neck as Geralt’s hands stroke his sides.

“Stupid rickety furniture.” Jaskier mumbles, feeling the laughter rumble through Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm, has nothing to do with the muffins." Geralt teases, slipping his hands inside the busted doublet and squeezing the roll that overhangs Jaskier’s breeches. Jaksier rears up, the haze of pleasure burned from his eyes as he studies Geralt, but finding only love he settles onto his chest once more. Maybe they needed a few months apart every year.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea is made possible courtesy of the lovely chubby Witcher discord where we talk fic ideas and all manners of nonsense. We'd love to have you: https://discord.gg/rkkzS6s
> 
> Comments/kudos/emojis/random outbursts greatly appreciated and highly encouraged!


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